Page 5 of The Biker's Single Mom
That's one hell of an understatement. Men like Ricci don't let go of what they consider theirs. Ever.
"I need to make a call," I tell her, straightening from the doorframe. "Don't leave this room."
Her smile is sharp around the edges. "There's that ordering again."
"There's that stubbornness again," I counter, but this time there's no heat in it. Just recognition.
I leave her to settle in, making sure the security system is armed before I pull out my phone and dial Blade. Our president answers on the second ring.
"They're settled?" he asks without preamble.
"For now." I step outside onto the clubhouse's rear deck, watching dusk settle over the tree line. "The ex is Carlo Ricci."
Blade's silence tells me he recognizes the name too. "Shit."
"Yeah."
"I'll have Devil run it down. If Ricci's men are in our territory, we need to know everything, who he's allied with, what he's after."
"It's not complicated," I say, my jaw tightening. "He wants the woman and her kid."
"Then he's not getting them," Blade responds, his voice flat with finality. "I'll be there in twenty. Have Hawk check the perimeter."
I hang up and stare into the gathering shadows. The Riders have faced down rival clubs, corrupt cops, and our own bloody history. But the mob is different—they have reach, resources, and a ruthlessness that makes even outlaw bikers wary.
Daisy and her daughter have brought trouble straight to our door. I should be pissed. Should be figuring out how to solve this problem quickly and get them moved along.
By the time Blade arrives, the rest of the Riders have gathered in the common room. Hawk and Devil are talking tactics by the bar, while Victor checks weapons with mechanical precision. Florence, Devil's wife, has appeared from somewhere and is sitting cross-legged on the floor with Violet, showing her how to make a paper crane.
Daisy watches from a few feet away, her posture a study in controlled tension.
"Your little one's got the whole crew wrapped around her finger already," Stephanie, Blade's girlfriend, says as she hands Daisy a mug of coffee.
Daisy accepts it with a grateful smile. "She's always been good with people. Better than me."
"I doubt that," Stephanie replies, shooting me a knowing look over Daisy's shoulder.
I scowl at her, which only makes her grin wider. Stephanie's been trying to pair off every single member of the club since she and Blade got together. Having me in her sights is the last thing I need.
Blade calls us to order with a single nod. We gather around the long table that dominates one end of the room, while Florence takes Violet to the kitchen for ice cream.
"Devil," Blade says, "what do we know?"
Devil leans forward, tattooed forearms braced on the table. "Carlo Ricci, forty-six, third-generation capo in the Rossi family. Based in Boston, but with operations throughout New England. Weapons, drugs, high-end theft. Divorced six months ago from Daisy Scott, formerly Ricci." His eyes flick to Daisy. "Sorry, this is clinical."
She nods, her face carefully composed. "It's fine. You need the facts."
"Ricci's got a reputation for—" Devil hesitates.
"Being a sadistic bastard," Daisy finishes for him, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. "You can say it."
I find myself moving closer to her without conscious thought. Not touching, but near enough that she could lean on me if she needed to. She doesn't.
"He's been looking for you since you left," Devil continues. "Word is, he's got men in three states tracking you down."
"Why now?" I ask. "If she's been gone two years?"
Daisy's eyes meet mine. "Because the divorce was finalized six months ago. I got full custody of Violet."
